


Not My Fault

by SepticRaven



Series: Writing Prompt Responses [3]
Category: Life? - Fandom, literally no fandom
Genre: Crime, False Accusations, Murder, Other, Sci-Fi, Virtual Reality, hinted police corruption, non graphic depictions of rape, prompt, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 23:09:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SepticRaven/pseuds/SepticRaven
Summary: It wasn't my fault. I don't deserve to pay for another mans actions. I did nothing wrong.What would you do if you had no say in what happened to you, especially if you're being accused for something as terrible as murder and abuse, when you only protected your family?





	Not My Fault

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:   
> In the future, virtual reality has surged. One of the most controversial uses is in prisons. Whatever crime you commit, you have to relive through your victims point of view. It's your first day in prison and you're terrified because of what you did.  
> (Supplied by writing.prompt.s on Instagram)
> 
> Warning: This prompt contains hinting of rape, but nothing actually describing it. If you are sensitive to such, please avoid this work.

  
  
My face twisted into a broken and phsycotic grin as I closed my eyes, a dark chuckle escaping my clenched teeth. It wasn't my fault, that man had deserved every second of what he got. Every, single, second. I felt a twinge of fear not knowing if this would be true, that it would show what this man had done to deserve this, but I had...relatively reliable sources within the jail. So many years going from prison to juvenile detention center, to court, I had made my ties and enemies. I had heard that it was built from memory to catch all details, to a T. Something about using the victims brain stem, or just a sample if they're alive. I have no idea how that's done, but I never got past eight grade.

  
I had even been told that nobody could tell the nature until after, so maybe I could prove my innocence, even if I faced some damage. I wasn't calling myself a hero, I'm a terrible person, in fact, but I'm not heartless like some would have you believe. I don't kill for 'fun' or money, why would you? I would only inflict pain on someone if they deserved it. This man? He deserved worse.

  
"Is he ready?" The lead scientists voice tickled my ears from my glass encampment, my laugh only getting deeper. I embraced this. I doubted I'd survive this encounter, my heart has never been the strongest, but I was honestly done with this broken world. I only hoped I served my purpose and got the truth out.

My eyes opened slowly, the scenery no longer a white washed laboratory stinking of chemicals, now we were in a painfully familiar place, the alley behind my house. I knew what was going to happen, but my mind wandered anyway. I wanted to turn around and try to take control of this situation. I knew this wasn't my part in the crime yet. I wanted to prove my innocence, but I didn't want to watch this man's crime through his eyes, through my eyes. I couldn't. I would rather die. Of course, I couldn't control the body I inhabited. All I could do was desperately try to close my, his, whoevers eyes as I heard the screech of my backdoor opening.

No. no. No! I didn't want to see this! I had known when my part came, but I had prayed to whatever divinity that I wouldn't see this part. All I could do was scream and plead to an empty void as I watched my younger sister start down the steps, a large black garbage bag being dragged behind her. She looked so tiny in the sparse light, so pure and angelic, so not deserving. All I could hear was my own scream as the body moved without me, towards my little sister. The way he grabbed her, her little terrified squeak and pleading as his hands encircled her tiny throat. The way he pulled her against him, against me. I wanted to die, but I couldn't. I had to survive so that my name was cleared and my family wouldn't bear another blow. I fought every second of what followed, I screamed to cover his voice as he spoke to my baby sister. I mentally killed him over and over again as he shoved into a wall near the end of what I hadn't been present for, chuckling at her sobbing as her little body crumbled to the floor, broken. Now, I couldn't wait for my part. I couldn't wait for this man to die again, even if I had to feel the pain of that death myself.

I heard the back door to my house slam open, the sound so much better than my sisters screams that had been assaulting my ears. I heard my own scream, my own anguish. I felt the body I was in start to run, but I felt a small twinge of joy knowing he wouldn't get far. Sure enough, soon he ca,e crashing down to the ground, hard. I heard my anger screaming as I cursed and spit, wrestling with the larger man, punching "myself" in the face.

The screams, the "What did you do?", "She's eleven!"' "I'm going to fucking kill you!"'s. I laughed brokenly through my tears as I saw my young fourteen year old self screaming and crying, not even caring that this fight would lead to a seven year court trial, to an eventual remembering of the worst day of his life, the day he lost everything. I couldn't help but scream as pain suddenly wracked my body, my younger self having grabbed a brick and hit me in the face with it. I remembered doing that, ever second of what was going on was playing like a twisted movie in the back of my mind. At least it was almost over. The man I was in pulled a knife and I let out a cry. I wanted to stop the knife as it was launched foreword, I wanted to stop this stupid simulation as my own blood poured down on my body. I knew that damage was inrepairable, for after that day I couldn't speak. It was all broken laughs, cries, or screams, but no words. It has been seven years, but that scar still stood out against his neck. But that scar was a small price for him. For me.

I felt relief as the knife was twisted from this monster I was experiencing the crime through the eyes of, I embraced the horrible, indescribable pain in my chest as my younger self plunged the knife down with all of his weight, over and over, and over. I saw my blood covered, shaking, sick looking self slowly drag himself away, his broken voice crying my sisters name. I felt my own cold tears tickling my cheeks as the mans vision faded black. My heart was seizing, the pain fresh and unbearable.

How could I have known that that man had been the police chiefs brother? How could I have known he would turn the town, the world, against me? How could I have known I would be pegged with the murder of a supposedly 'innocent' man and the mental decline of my baby sister? She couldn't testify, hell, she couldn't barely remember the night, only that there was pain. She couldn't trust after that, she was a wreck. I lost my sister, my family, my home, friends, life all because I got justice for my baby sister. The same baby sister who gets told her brother was the one who hurt her, that the man who was murdered tried to help her. Maybe now the truth would spread, but maybe it would be kept under wraps yet again.

Maybe the chief would win and his brother would be remembered as a hero instead of a rapist and a stalker. Maybe this was fate all along. Is had machines connected to my real body in the laboratory that kept me alive, but I had seen the chief speaking the lab etc before I was sent in. I had known right as I was Hooke daughter up that I wasn't ever waking up. I was going to die a murderer, but hopefully someone in the lab had a heart. Hopefully the truth could get out. As darkness chilled my years broken soul, I felt a slight bit of happiness. Maybe I could go to heaven now. Maybe I could see my sister one day. Maybe I could be happy again... I could finally be innocent...

Thank you...


End file.
